Mistakes Made
by Pyro Symptoms Unleashed
Summary: In which Draco is stupid, Pansy shags someone, Ginny is armed with a cheese grater, Blaise gets many black eyes, and the Ministry screws everything up. Oh, and did I mention the duodecaplets? Yeah, that's like twins, but with 12 babies. But whose babies?
1. Charms, Anyone?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay, I know it's short, but I just wanted to put something up on this fic so I could see if you peoples out there absolutely hated it or not. It's nowhere near as funny as Boxers, but hey, that's a tough one to follow. So, here it is. More chapters are coming. Unless you all really hate it.

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine unless it is; everything else belongs to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**Mistakes Made**

**Chapter One: Charms, Anyone?

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**

"You know, Draco, I really hate the Ministry."

Draco Malfoy glanced up from the Daily Prophecy with all the interest of a leopard noticing a new spot. "Really? Good," he muttered, flipping through the pages. Blaise Zabini glared. "Come off it, Draco. Yes, you and I both know the Ministry's always been the closest thing on earth to the eternal hellfires of damnation, but this…this is different…this is just wrong. It's sick and twisted and wrong," Blaise groaned.

Draco glared over the top of his paper. "I know you'll find this hard to believe, Blaise, but the Ministry's chief concern in the battle against Voldemort has nothing to do with your sex life," he stated blandly, nose buried in the paper. He looked up again. "Or lack thereof."

Blaise's eye twitched. "But it's so inhumane!" he moaned, slamming his head on the dining room table. Or, he would have, had Draco not just set his coffee cup in the way. At that moment, a ruffled carrot walked into the room, dragging its feet in a shuffling imitation of a waltz. "Stop whining, Zabini, no one in this house gives a damn if you're not getting any," Ginny Weasley commanded from under a mess of tangled hair, reaching up to snatch at a teacup on a shelf.

Blaise glowered magnificently from under the blackening bruise that was the right side of his face. "Gah," he mumbled, sinking into his seat. Draco peered imperiously at the red-bed-head trying to conjure eggs into the frying pan. It was not working only because she kept aiming them at Blaise's head, which, though she claimed it to be weird and misshapen, was definitely not a frying pan.

Usually.

"What makes you so chipper, weasel? You're just as sexually-deprived as we are. Everyone is. Bloody Ministry ban," Draco mumbled, going back to his paper. Blaise perked up. "Aha! I knew it! You are miffed at the Ministry's ban!" he shouted, pushing his chair back, standing and pointing. Draco glared. "Malfoys do not get miffed," he growled. "Sit down, Zabini," Ginny stated. She kicked Blaise's chair, and he fell back into it. Blaise glared.

"Answer the question, weasel," Draco interrupted Blaise and Ginny's visual sparring match. "The Ministry's put such a heavy tax on those ruddy Contraception Charms that there's no way a half-decent working man like myself, let alone a dirt-poor Weaselby like you, could ever afford one. So either you've got no libido, you've renounced heterosexuality, or you're running the risk of getting knocked up. Which is it?" Draco queried.

Ginny flashed the old Slytherins a smirk. "Did it ever cross your fabulously multifaceted mind that maybe I attract rich men who can afford such expensive luxuries as Contraception Charms?" she questioned with a wry grin, gathering her cup of tea, misshapen eggs and stuffing three slices of toast in her mouth. With a polite nod of her head, she exited the room.

Blaise glared. "Stupid bloody attractive woman," he growled. Draco arched an eyebrow over the top of his paper. "Blaise? We're talking about the walking carrot that idolized The-Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died for quite a few years, owing, most undoubtedly, to a severe mental instability," he reminded. Blaise shrugged. "I don't like saying she's attractive, but you have to admit, Draco, she's got something," he said.

Draco scoffed, eying his friend for possible signs of infection. "Yes, and it seems to be contagious." He flipped to the last page, scanned it, and growled. "Damnit! Now that is inhumane!" he moaned, trashing the paper into a ball and throwing it out the window, where somewhere on the street below, an old woman shrieked and very nearly soiled herself.

Blaise glanced up. "Your father still alive?" "Yes." "Bollocks, mate. Tough blow." "Fuck it, Zabini, just shut up and go bury your head under a pancake or something." "Can't. Weasley ate the last of them."

Draco wasn't particularly interested in what the walking carrot stick did or did not eat. He was more interested in when his batty old patriarch would kick the proverbial bucket. He slammed his fist onto the table. "Doesn't anyone up there have any mercy?" he shouted at the ceiling.

Apparently, the sleeping resident of the flat above theirs did not. A sleepy female voice yelled 'Avada Kedabravava,' and fell back asleep, but not before casting some sort of semi-consciously-assembled jumble of trangsfiguration hexes with intent to kill which left Draco looking, if possible, a sight worse than he did before. Glaring out of goggling frog eyes, he turned to Blaise. "Don't you say a word," he grit out.

Blaise coughed indiscreetly, glancing around Draco's back. "Is that a tail?" he chuckled. Draco growled. "Not another word!" he raved.

Blaise would have said something, but he couldn't seem to stop sniggering.


	2. Pea Soup and Frozen Peas

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, I have nothing better to do; I'm waiting for Germany to play Italy in the World Cup games, so I figured I'd post some crap to kill the time. So, here it is. Crap. Bye! Hope you like it; you probably won't. Oh well. C'est la vie!

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine unless it is. All else belongsto J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**Mistakes Made**

**Chapter Two: Pea Soup and Frozen Peas

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**

Ginny could feel it. She knew it. And she didn't care.

She knew she was falling off the couch, but sometime after she had returned from work at the Ministry, she had lost all use of her standard motor skills, and was now in the mindless process of sliding like pea soup out of a dish at the dinner table into some old crony's lap like that night Auntie Ciliana plopped by for supper and Ginny 'accidentally' nudged her elbow at the right moment and consequently Auntie Ciliana never came plopping by again, much to Ginny's delight, stupid cow trying to make her wear fluffy bunny muggle bedtime slippers in the middle of July at a picnic, for heaven's sake, what was she thinking?

Yeah. That's how Ginny was sliding off the couch.

By the time her head had touched the ground, she was beginning to lose feeling in her arm, which she thought she might be sitting on, but couldn't be bothered to move her head to find out. But then there was a rap on the door, and she lost all concentration. Her nose twitched and sent her tumbling to the floor in a heap of flesh and bones and spare limbs she didn't seem to remember having before.

Draco ignored the intelligence-deficient blob of Weasley on the floor and waved his wand, opening the front door. Only one person had that stupid, froofy, girly tappity-tap-tap staccato-type knock.

"Pansy, where the hell have you been?" Blaise asked, appearing from the bathroom just in time to wrap Pansy Parkinson in a familiar hug. The girl wrinkled her nose at Blaise, making the excuse of closing the door so she could get away from him. "I hope you washed your hands," she commented, just short of performing a Disinfecting Charm on herself.

"And now you know why we don't let Blaise make dinner," Draco piped from under the kitchen sink, where he was trying to gain more knowledge of the elusive and ridiculous Muggle system of 'plumbing'. He didn't know what this big copper tube thing was, but he was decently sure it didn't _have_ to be there.

Blaise ignored him. So did Pansy, for that matter. The well-built blonde woman glanced around the apartment. "Right, so where is my favourite resident of flat B12?" she asked. Draco snorted, poking at the round bit of metal. "With the rest of the dirt; on the floor," he snickered, before falling silent as he realized he was indeed, as Weasley told him three times a day (sometimes at the most inconvenient times), an immature, stupid git. No one wanted to be chastised when they were taking a shower, but now he thought he just might deserve this. He suddenly felt as if he should be hugging a teddy bear and eating cookies with milk and throwing temper tantrums and soiling his underwear.

Pansy picked up a bolt from the floor and chucked it at Draco's head, before turning into the living room and flopping on the couch. "Weasley, wake up!" she snapped, flicking the girl's ear with a long green fingernail. Ginny groaned, rolling over with a boneless, and yet clumsy grace. "Urgh, what the feck do you want, pug-face?" she growled sleepily. Pansy frowned. "Nothing you can offer, carrot-top," she snarled back.

Ginny was the first to smile. "Don't bet on it; I've got an awful lot to offer, Pans," she smirked, wrapping her arms around the blonde, who obligingly picked her up and set her back on her feet again, a task Ginny probably wouldn't have accomplished on her own. At least not until she found where her kneecaps were hiding.

Pansy grinned back at her. "There's the squirming octopus I love," she said, kissing Ginny's cheek. Draco's head peered slowly around the corner. Pansy glared over Ginny's shoulder. "No lesbianic love for you, Draco," she warned, leaning back and giving Ginny's cheek a pinch. Draco's head disappeared around the corner again and several loud thuds and clanks ensued. Swatting at Pansy's hands, Ginny ducked away and slammed face-first into Blaise's chest. Rebounding, she fell back on the couch, holding her face.

Blaise rubbed his chest. "Ow," he commented, turning back to Pansy. "Oi, what about me? Christ, don't be such a stranger, Pansy. How long had it been since you left?" he asked, picking her up in a strong hug. Pansy glanced around. Ginny was wailing something about a broken nose in the background, and what sounded like ancient cat vomit was spurting out of a pipe and into Draco's face, judging from the gargled obscenities.

"Not long enough, it would seem," Pansy said, arching an eyebrow.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Dinner that night was a spectacle. Draco beat Ginny to the shower, and the red-head spent a good deal of the night holding a bag of frozen peas to her face, glowering at Blaise whenever she could manage to open her eyes. Blaise was deep in conversation with Pansy, both bemoaning the Ministry's ban on Contraception Charms. In their opinion, the charms were a necessity in life, allowing for casual, promiscuous shagging without the possibility of any pitter-pattering about the house.

Blaise hated pitter-pattering.

"I mean, who can afford those things anymore? The charms, I mean, not the little brats," he clarified. "And even the few who can afford the blasted things are cut off at one a month," Blaise whined. Draco wasn't paying attention, as he was bustling around the kitchen in a frilly apron, preparing dinner, an activity he enjoyed far too much, in Ginny's opinion, for him to be entirely heterosexual.

The death of Narcissa Malfoy had hit her son hard. For the sheer fact that she hadn't taken Lucius Malfoy into the afterlife with her. And that Draco would receive no money until the long-haired old codger was dead and gone.

Blaise's parents were both still very much alive, and Pansy's parents were both still very much dead, to Blaise's disgust and Pansy's delight. It had initially been Pansy, with the money her parent's corpses had coughed up, who staggered away from the ick that was the Dark Lord Moldiewart, and bought the apartment. Blaise and Draco had followed.

For some god-forsaken, unknown reason, Ginny and Pansy became friends, proving that the order of the universe was indeed, sick, twisted, and wrong. So when Pansy took her 'little vacation', which lasted almost a year, Ginny stayed in her room at the apartment, much to Draco and Blaise's initial disgust, then delight, then disgust again as they realized she did not exchange household chore obligations for sexual favours. She said she'd rather clean out the toilet with her tongue.

As Blaise put it, what then, was the use of having a female roommate?

Draco set a steaming plate of chicken down in the middle of the table. "Eat," he commanded. The table was quick to oblige. Ginny finally lowered her bag of peas, as one hand shovelling food into her gob just wasn't fast enough. Pansy watched in disgust, her fork halfway to her mouth.

"Weasley, should we get a funnel, or would you prefer to attempt snorting the rest of the meal? Not that I doubt your nose is big enough, but the sound effects alone are discouraging for the rest of us trying to properly digest over here," Pansy said dryly, setting her fork down. Draco was chewing on a bone in interest, and Blaise was staring at Ginny, who opted to ignore them all and start chewing with her mouth open.

Dinner ended rather early that night, as everyone rather strangely lost their appetites.


	3. Femininity and Gladiator Wars

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay, so, welcome to PyroSymptomsUnleashed's Summary Of Useless Facts And Pointless Information. First thing: my parents are divorced. Yay. Second thing: my ear cartilage is pierced. Yay. Third thing: England is out of the World Cup. Not yay. Fourth thing: I have an art page at deviantart-dot-com, not spelled out like that, but as a normal web address. My ID on there is bungled-and-boggled. Yay. Uhh...fifth thing...uhh...did you know twelve offspring birthed at the same time are called duodecaplets? I did not know that. Now I do. And so do you.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine unless it is, anything else belongs to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**Mistakes Made**

**Chapter Three: Femininity and Gladiator Wars

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**

Pansy lit a candle with her wand. She and Ginny were kipping together in her old room, much to Draco and Blaise's repugnance, as this meant that their sex lives were to remain deader than expired doornails, which, gone to meet their makers, had pushed up dozens of daisies, and kicked many, many proverbial buckets.

Pansy's advice was to revert to homosexuality.

Then at least they'd have a spare room. Draco and Blaise's response was to try and beat each other to the bathroom to relive some of their dinner from that evening.

Ginny leaned back on the bed. "So, where have you been, Pans?" she asked, the question she'd been saving until they were alone and away from the Doltish Duo. Pansy shrugged, a frilly see-through top slipping off her shoulder. "Here. There," she shrugged again. Ginny was starting to dislike Pansy's overt femininity. "I stayed in Greece for a while. Skipped over to Budapest. I just travelled around a bit," she said, rolling over to conjure another candle. Ginny eyes widened at the curves Pansy's stupid frilly knickers showed off. Perhaps she should give this femininity thing a shot…

Ginny sat up as Pansy turned back to her, her chin on her knees. "Pans, you know who you're talking to," she said sternly. Pansy looked up. "It was for Dumbledore, alright?" she snapped, melting the candle with her wand. "Christ, I can't keep anything from you, can I?" she asked, contorting the hot wax into what suspiciously looked like a voodoo doll. With red wax hair. Ginny shook her head. "Not until you die. Now, explain," she instructed. Pansy groaned, squishing the doll. Nothing happened. "Damn," Pansy muttered. "Boring Ministry shite. I went around, keeping score on the Death Eater actions. I compiled my report and came back, and before you ask, your brothers are fine, and yes, it looks like we're winning, but I'm not saying anything definite." By the time she was done, she had transfigured the wax into a large helical structure.

Ginny eyed it warily. "Hmm…I don't suppose Contraception Charms are any less expensive out of the country, eh?" she mused. Pansy shot her a glance, vanishing the wax tower with her wand. "Why on earth would you ask?" she questioned, a grin forming. Ginny frowned. "So I lied about the rich lovers thing and I'm just as hard-up for a hard-on with a hard-hat as anyone," she mumbled, poking a candle into flight around the room. Pansy arched an eyebrow. "Hard-hat?" she asked dryly. Ginny's candle slammed into the wall. "Muggle term, for protective head gear," she replied tersely. Pansy's eyebrow was still arched. "For protection."

Pansy nodded. "Ah, I see. Can't run the risk of any more Weasleys?"

Ginny scoffed. "Mum was unlucky enough with Fred and George and she didn't have my abominable luck, which would probably get me knocked up with thirteen little Anti-Christs the first man I slept with. No, there's got to be a way around that ruddy Ministry ban," she mused.

Pansy's face slowly rose like a lazy sun. "Speaking of shagging and your lovely twin brothers…" she trailed. Ginny's face dropped in horror. "You didn't!" she hissed, gagging, and rushing to the loo to look for a toothbrush. Pansy decided to stop her when Ginny pulled out a plunger. "I didn't sleep with your brothers…twit," she spat. Ginny reappeared, looking queasy. "Right," she said, sitting down calmly. "Sorry. Please continue," she mumbled. Pansy scoffed, shaking her head. "Someone's taken one too many bludgers to the head," she quirked. Ginny glared. "Right, so anyway, about your brothers…in an entirely non-sexual way…they've got their own joke shop, right?"

Ginny nodded slowly.

"Well, they do trade with lots of other magical corporations and with the Ministry and such, yeah?"

Ginny's head seemed to be moving up and down in super-trippy snorting-pixy-dust slow motion, which, thinking back to the one time she'd done it, was not a pleasant experience.

"So, they have connections in, say, the department that's got such a tight ban on those little Contraception Charms, eh?" Pansy asked.

Ginny caught on, finally, with the speed of a special Olympic runner. "I like the way your mind works, Parkinson," she cheered, conjuring two glasses of wine for a toast. Pansy took a sip and leaned back on her elbows.

"Now that you mention it, though, twins are rather sexy, aren't they? And your brothers are bloody tight blokes, aren't they?"

Ginny swallowed her wine with difficulty. "I hate the way your mind works, Parkinson."

……………………………………………………………………………

_Dear Fred and George,_

_Hope you are still alive. Chances are, mum's already found out what you did to the Patil twins last month and she's beaten you to death, in which case, bollocks to you, and see you at the funeral. If you are by any chance, safe, or at least insufficiently maimed, I have a favour to ask of you. You two clever, wonderful brothers wouldn't have any top cut connections in the Ministry who could get hold of say-two?-Contraception Charms, now would you? Any chance? Do this for me and I won't tell mum about that time with you two and Fleur. Get me four and I won't tell Bill, either. _

_Much love, your evil, conniving, blackmailing, heartless little sister,_

_Ginny_

Before the day was out an owl delivered four very precious boxes to flat B12, 402 Ferris Street, Upper London. Ginny smirked, handing Pansy one of the boxes. The Slytherin grinned, accepting it. "What are you going to do with the other two?" she asked as Ginny tucked one box under her pillow. The redhead grinned wryly. "There's two lusting, shag-deprived blokes in this house and I have two Contraception Charms, what do you think I'm going to do?"

"Set up a gladiator-style match in the living room and pit them against each other for sole possession of the charms?" Pansy hazarded, looking excited. Ginny eyeballed her. "Why do I suddenly have the impression you have a thing for watching men fighting in little leather skirts?" Pansy frowned, as if the answer should be obvious. "Because I do. Nitwit."

"Right."

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	4. Sex Sex Shag Bugger Sex

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **So, this is chapter four. Have fun with this one kiddies, and I rather hope you're not easily offended. But if you are, what are you doing reading my stories, go away. No, don't. Oh bugger, just enjoy.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine unless it is and doesn't belong to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**Mistakes Made**

**Chapter Four: Sex sex shag bugger sex

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**

Draco's head perked up. He and Blaise had fallen asleep out in the living room. But now, something was up. He sniffed delicately. "Blaise…Blaise, wake up," he hissed. Blaise mumbled something about shagging and rolled over. Draco reached over, grabbed the Nimbus lying against the wall and prodded Blaise with the end of it.

"Blaise, quick…" Draco stopped. This was getting him nowhere. "Sex, sex, sex, shag, shag, fuck, shag, fuck, bugger, shag, shag, shag, shag, _shag_, sex, shag…sod you, Blaise…fuck, sex, shag, sex, shag, fuck, fuck, shaggedy, shag, shag, fuck, bollocks, fuck, shag, _oh my god a naked woman_!"

Blaise woke with a start. "Sex-what?-shag?" he garbled blearily, waving his arms about in an attempt to balance himself on the couch, which was impossible, since Draco was already in the act of poking him off with the might of his broomstick.

It worked.

Glaring at a nine hundred thread count Uzbekistani rug, Blaise decided Draco was destined to die a tragic young death at the hands of an enraged feminist with a cheese grater and fire tongs. He knew just the person, too. She'd just entered the room dangling a brightly coloured package in her hand.

"Good morning, Sod One and Sod Two. Sleep well?" Ginny chirped merrily, bouncing onto the couch. Draco shoved her legs off him, holding the broom defensively. Blaise was still lying on the ground, but he rolled over to glance at the red-haired girl. "What's that?" he asked, as his natural curiosity took over.

Ginny smirked. "This? You don't recognize this? Why, Blaise, has it really been that long since you last saw a Contraception Charm?"

Draco fell on top of Blaise in shock, his head in a very compromising and heterosexuality- deficient place. Pansy entered the room, filling the room on the sofa Draco had just vacated. "Well, if that's what you two are into, I don't suppose you need this, now do you?" she asked, plucking the Charm from Ginny's fingers and waving it in front of the two men. Draco shoved Blaise in the face and lunged for the box. Ginny pulled it away and stuck her foot out, kicking Draco in the forehead.

"No, no, you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" she asked, grinning evilly. Blaise figured it was a good time to become religious and made the sign of the cross for whatever good it did.

Two hours later he was still standing next to Draco as they publicly proclaimed their everlasting love in song for Harry Potter in the Three Broomsticks, loudly, and growing consistently more so the more Firewhiskey they consumed. As if that weren't bad enough, they were, for some awful reason, wearing short leather skirts. Pansy was a right evil cow.

"Tell me it's worth it, Draco," Blaise nearly cried as he finished a short poem about how lovely Harry's socks were. Draco was busy staring at a pair of long legs seated at the table in front of them. "It has to be, Blaise," he rasped.

Meanwhile, two pairs of long legs were tapping in amusement, seated comfortably at the table nearest to the two unwilling drag-queen impersonators. In front of them was a brightly coloured box, prize to the most pathetic of the unwilling drag-queen impersonators. Though it was at a bit of a tie at the moment.

"Are you ever going to tell them you got one for each of them?" Pansy asked over the rim of her gillywater. Ginny laughed. "And miss this? Never. Maybe after they start crying, but not for at least another few hours."

Pansy grinned as Fred and George Weasley walked in with none other than the Golden Trio, with Rita Skeeter coming in behind them, quill and parchment in hand with Colin Creevey and his lens with him in tow.

"Excellent."

………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco's eye hadn't stopped twitching in over an hour. He was beginning to think it was now a permanent fixture.

"That was the most humiliating and awful experience of my young life," he whispered shakily. Blaise nodded slowly. Across the kitchen table from them, Ginny grinned. "Really? Well, it won't stay that way. I'm sure worse things will happen to you," she said, as if this for some reason, would reassure them. Blaise stood, ostensibly to go try and commit suicide by rubbing at his wrists with his toothbrush. As frantic as he was, he might even have succeeded, had Pansy not run into him and accidentally spilled piping hot tea on the front of his trousers. He screeched like a banshee, and rushed off to the bathroom. Draco watched from under one twitching eye. "Lucky bastard. That's more action than I've gotten all month," he hissed.

Ginny laughed. "Oh, yes, about that…" she began, adopting a sympathetic tone that set off warning bells in Draco's head.

He was at her throat with a teaspoon in a second. "Woman, I worked bloody hard for that Charm, and you had best give it to me before I do something I might regret, but probably won't because it's worth anything to rid the world of another Weasley, and you…you're evil, woman," he panted, running his words together.

"What exactly are you planning to do, Draco, spoon me to death?" she asked, pushing his hand away. Draco scoffed, seating himself.

"You wish."

"No, what I meant to say, was that I have a Charm for both you and Blaise. You both earned it," she said, tossing one at Draco. You'd think, as wide as his mouth was gaping, he'd have managed to catch an obese sperm whale in it, let alone the little box Ginny threw at him. However, he was of questionable mental capabilities, if any, and therefore the box hit him squarely between the eyes and bounced off under the table. The spastic git even had the gall to look surprised, his bovine-like face registering shock before he blinked.

"Come again?" he blanched, grabbing the box, his eye beginning to twitch faster. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it was trying to escape. Ginny frowned. "You. Charm. Blaise. Charm. Both. Get. Charm."

Draco snatched up that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "All this was for bloody nothing?" he screeched, waving the picture of him and Blaise waving flowers and chucking chocolates at Harry Potter, who was running for his life. Rita Skeeter had done it again. Though Draco was just mad that Blaise's legs looked better in a skirt than his did.

Ginny smirked. "Call us even." Draco frowned. "For what, exactly?" he hissed. "For you and Blaise always using up all the hot water in the mornings." "What? Why would you think we'd do something like that on purpose?" he asked, fidgeting. Ginny frowned. "Perhaps because the two of you like getting your jollies by watching the effects of cold water on the female body?" Draco's eye twitched again. "Start wearing thicker shirts, then!"

Blaise interrupted the rebellion of Draco's eye from his face by entering the room in his underwear. "There, no harm done," he announced proudly, answering the age-old question that had been plaguing Ginny since she moved in; briefs. It was definitely briefs. Blaise grinned in satisfaction, hands on his hips. "All better." Ginny eyed his southern half. "I wouldn't say that, Zabini," she said, tossing the other Charm at him. Blaise glared as he caught it. "Stuff it, Weasley." "That's my line." "Bugger."

Draco eyed the two of them warily. "I'd say get a room, but I'm afraid you'd choose mine, so go…shag…somewhere and stop clouding my mind with all this sexual frustration." Wickedly, Ginny whirled on him, dropping gently into his stunned lap. "Sorry, Draco, I didn't catch that. Who's sexually frustrated?" she asked, wriggling around a bit.

Draco was proud he managed to answer in English. At least, his foggy brain was mostly sure that 'Ahwannagimmehavaahwannaplese?' was English. Ginny grinned. "Precisely. No more snarky comments about sex. You both have your Charms, so go wreak havoc on the female world, the two of you."

Draco and Blaise actually stood to leave when Pansy rushed into the room, clutching a letter in one hand, and her owl by the leg in the other. "It's over, it's over!" she screeched, waving her hands about and showering the kitchen in owl feathers. Draco arched an eyebrow, Blaise tipped over his char, Ginny sneezed, and Pax the Owl hooted feebly.

Pansy glanced around the kitchen. "The war," she explained, "it's over." Immediately her brainless flatmates jumped up with exclamations and cheers and general physical contact. When Pansy informed Blaise and Draco that their remaining parents had been captured in the final battle, Ginny immediately Disapparated, returning with several bottles of various kinds of alcohol. Severe celebration was in order, and if anyone was sober before the night was out, Ginny was failing in her duties.

"To the absence of evil bastards," Pansy toasted, raising her glass. Draco cleared his throat pointedly. Pansy nodded apologetically. "Right. To the absence of most evil bastards."

"Cheers."


	5. Nausea and Slytherins

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. Not writing it, but posting it. See, I'm officially grounded for some reason or another, and my mum took the wireless internet card and the removable disk I keep my stories on and hid them both. Of course being the genius I am, I found them. I'm so clever. So, here it is: chapter five. It's way longer than the others because I figured you deserved it. So yes. Here you go.

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine unless it is.

* * *

**Mistakes Made  
**

**Chapter Five: Nausea and Slytherins

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**

****

Ginny rolled over. Her head immediately chastised her for this action by driving a sledgehammer into every nerve it possessed. She managed to open her eyes a slit, and whisper a feeble 'help' into the pounding silence that was her room.

Except it wasn't her room. She immediately reached down. "Nope, no knickers, definitely got shagged," she mumbled to herself, a little disappointed that her only Contraception Charm had been used for a wild night she couldn't remember a single minute of. But she felt great. A voice piped up behind her. "Oh yeah, me too," the strong, rumbly, early-morning voice stated, apparently responding to Ginny's semi-conscious rambling. Ginny grinned at the warm hand on her hip and rolled over.

And promptly screamed bloody buggering murder.

………………………………

Pansy awoke to the sounds of what seemed to be someone being brutally killed. She swung out of her bed, and noticed that Ginny wasn't in the room. Ginny never got up earlier than this. Doing some quick calculations, Pansy got an idea into her head.

"Oh, fuck, it's too early in the morning for this shite," she grumbled, stalking over to Blaise's room and hammering on the door. "Zabini? Zabini, wake up. We have to go stop Ginny from killing Draco."

"Why?" Blaise moaned from inside. Pansy put her mind to it, but couldn't think of a good answer. "Nevermind. I'll just be in the kitchen." Pansy meandered off. She returned in a few seconds. "Do you want any coffee?" she called. Three heads emerged from separate rooms, all answering with a resounding 'yes, please.'

"Oh, and Pans?" Ginny called, wrapping a blanket more firmly around her chest. "Make it strong, please."

………………………………..

Breakfast was a bit of an uncomfortable moment, silence broken only by the odd, desperate conversational attempt of the 'clink' of the silverware to create any sort of noise whatsoever.

Blaise finally cleared his throat. "So, does anyone remember anything of what happened last night, at all?" he asked, glancing around the table. Pansy stared deeply into her coffee, too madly in love with it to answer, or even look up. Ginny fidgeted in her seat. "Er, I don't, er…actually remember much of…er…anything," she mumbled. Draco nodded. "That counts for me as well, mate. Not a clue. Well, I can make a guess as to what happened," he said, glancing at Ginny, who was still only wearing his bed sheets.

There was a brief period of silence, broken this time by Pansy, who stood up suddenly and violently threw the beloved contents of her mug into Draco's face, before storming off.

As Draco sputtered in steaming coffee rage, Blaise glanced over at Ginny. "What's her problem?" he scoffed. Before he knew it, he was blowing boiling hot coffee out of his nose as Ginny followed Pansy's fiery trail out of the room.

Draco pulled out his wand and dried his face. His cheeks were hot, and not just from the unwanted steam bath they'd just had. "What's with the sudden Mad Cow epidemic in this place?" he growled. Blaise was still dripping, staring off in the direction the two raging spitfires had…well…spit-fired. "Is it just me, or is this a monthly thing?" he muttered. Draco's eyes widened and he glanced around; luckily, there were no women in the room. He exhaled. "If you want to live to die a natural, shagged-out death, sans a purposefully forceful emasculation by way of kitchen utensils, then it's just you. Trust me; there are ways of using an egg beater that you've never even dreamed of."

Blaise nodded. "Just me, then. Right. Just me."

…………………………………….

"I thought you'd finished with this."

Pansy pulled her head up from between her shoulders, her elbows on her knees, seated capriciously on the edge of the toilet. She splayed her hands, looking about the bathroom in bewilderment. "How the hell did you get in here?" she asked, then shook her head. "No, actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know what you get up to when Blaise is taking a shower."

Ginny chose this moment to become temporarily and conveniently deaf and ignored Pansy's comment. "You're skirting the issue, Pans," she chided. Pansy frowned, placing her head in her hands. "What am I supposed to do, Gin?" she asked. What frightened Ginny was that she sounded like she actually wanted an answer. Ginny shuffled her feet awkwardly. "What do you mean, Pans? I mean, I just…I thought you were over him," she said tentatively.

Pansy leapt to her feet. "Believe me, Weasley, I thought I was. Why do you think I came back? I thought I could handle it. I didn't think I'd wake up one morning and find out that you'd slept with him. How the hell should I prepare myself for that, then, eh?" she cried, banging her fist against the wall.

Ginny frowned. "Pans, are you ever going to tell me what happened between you two?" she asked. Pansy growled. "Nothing happened. Nothing that he hadn't done before. He'd cheated on me before, he'd slept with my friends before, he'd called me names before, he'd ignored me before, he'd treated me like garbage before, but _before_, I wasn't so completely in love with him!"

Silence bounced off the tile walls of the bathroom. Pansy was breathing heavily, shaking, and looking like a woman in love. But Pansy Parkinson didn't fall in love; she wouldn't allow it.

Pansy Parkinson didn't have emotional breakdowns in water closets either.

Ginny was entirely unsure what to do in a situation like this. Pansy had been gone for almost a year to get over Draco. She was obviously different. Should she comfort her? Would Pansy try to kill her? Should she ask more questions? Should she talk it over with her? Should she leave her alone? Should she force her into the shower and turn on all the cold water?

So uncertain was the poor, befuddled Ginny Weasley that she did a very stupid thing, and that was what her body was telling her to do.

She walked right past Pansy, lifted the lid on the toilet, and violently hurled cookies.

……………………………………………………………………

Blaise and Draco made sure to steer clear of the two women and coffee for a while. They 'took a week off' to 'go swing dancing', something Blaise assured Draco he remembered as being a common and elusive pastime from his Muggle Studies class. The girls would have no idea they were just trying to avoid them.

…………………………………………………………………

Ginny watched with eyebrow arched as Draco and Blaise Disapparated, arguing over what a jitterbug was. "Were they always that stupid, or do you think it's because we threw hot coffee at them?" she asked Pansy, who was lounging on the sofa. "No, really, the coffee had nothing to do with it," she mumbled. Ginny shook her head. "'Swing dancing'," she chuckled to herself. "Stupid gits, however did they manage to graduate?"

Pansy didn't answer. It had been two weeks since 'the unholy, highly traumatic, and best-forgotten apocalypse', as Ginny referred to that night, and yet still Pansy was constantly slipping into a deep frown every five minutes. It was beginning to piss Ginny off.

Although, anything could piss Ginny off lately. Including the previously very vocal and now very deceased Mr. Gippy, the cat in the flat across the hall from theirs. And she'd gotten a Howler from her mum for setting Ron on fire two days before that. The git had shown up at her door at eight in the morning with a platter of leftover, almost mouldy, bologna-and-mayonnaise sandwiches. In all fairness, Ginny threw up on him first, then she cleaned him up, then she banished the platter to Outer Mongolia, and _then_ she set Ron on fire. He really had deserved it. Mayonnaise? Just thinking about it made Ginny sick, and she usually had a stomach of iron. She figured she was coming down with something from spending too much time around Blaise and Draco. One more episode of 'let's burp the alphabet' and she was kicking them out, regardless of whose flat it was.

Even so, she regretted taking it out on Pansy. She really wished Draco was there to terrify. It was entirely too easy. For some reason the boy was deathly afraid of egg beaters. Odd, really. Blaise too.

"Pansy," she said, perking slightly. "The boys are gone," she grinned, vaulting over the couch and into Pansy's lap. Pansy eyed her warily, reaching for a pillow. "You know what that means," Ginny said in a singsong voice. Pansy held up the pillow in self-defence.

"Spill time."

Pansy glanced over the top of the pillow.

"Spill time," she breathed in relief.

"Spill time," Ginny grinned.

Pansy arched an eyebrow. "Spill time?"

"_Spill time_," Ginny stressed.

"Stop repeating yourself. What the hell does spill time mean?" Pansy asked. "Spill time is where I sit here all nice and comfortable while you spill all your nasty, dirty, humiliating, painful secrets from your past," Ginny answered promptly, "starting with what happened between you and Draco and what's happening now."

Pansy growled. "Damnit, Ginny, you can't just ask someone to empty their heart out to you. Especially a Slytherin." Ginny just stared expectantly. "Hm, apparently you can," she grumbled. "Look, Weasley, there's nothing to it. Really, just leave it, yeah?"

So Ginny did. Particularly because she wasn't all that interested and she was fit to lie down, succumb to exhaustion, and die. If only there weren't ex-Slytherins to bump off. Life was so trying sometimes.

"So, enough about me and Draco. What about you and Draco? After all, no matter how much you try to deny it, you did sleep with the ferret, after all," Pansy smirked, that inexorable Slytherin smirk. All the nausea Ginny had been feeling all day swelled up in her as Pansy, the cow, forced her to think of the one thing she'd been avoiding like the next round of the bubonic plague. Stumbling off her ex-Slytherin devious counterpart, Ginny made a beeline for the bathroom.

Pansy sat back, trying to fall asleep, and yet somehow unable to do so. Perhaps it was the problems being around Draco caused. Perhaps it was the fact that she was trying to cope with lying to her best friend. Perhaps it was the horrifying sounds her best friend was making in the bathroom, conjuring images of baby spew, pagan rituals, and ancient roman orgies.

A splash and a squish later and Pansy's stomach had her rushing for the kitchen sink herself, praying that Draco hadn't damaged the plumbing beyond all repair.

…………………………………………………..

One week passed rather quickly.

"So, swing dancing. Whose brilliant idea was that?"

Blaise glared at Ginny over his cup of coffee. "Oh, like you paid attention in Muggle Studies class," he grumbled, spilling coffee down his chin. Ginny's face went white. "Ergh, that's disgusting," she complained, clutching at her stomach. Blaise was about to make a comment on her carnivorous and savage eating habits, but something caught his attention. Rather, two somethings did.

"Are your breasts bigger?"

Ginny glanced up, abandoning the wave of nausea that was threatening to turn Blaise's breakfast into a traumatic and extremely disgusting, if not squishy, experience. "Are my whats what?" she asked, letting go of the handful of fabric she'd been clenching.

Blaise was staring avidly at her chest. "Well, they looked…not now, but when you pulled your shirt…they looked…they looked…"

The drool forming in the corner of his mouth said it all.

Ginny glanced down, nudging the girls tenderly. "Oh, shite. I don't know about bigger, but they hurt like hell," she groaned, tucking her hands under her arms. "Blaise," she said softly. "You can stop looking now." Blaise's head jerked up. "Right."

Ginny nodded, gently massaging the offending appendages as Draco entered the room and immediately started salivating. Ginny eyed him warily. "Oh, no you don't. You got your shot, mate. You're not getting anywhere near me or my goods ever again." She crossed her legs. Blaise was forced to do the same, for other reasons.

Ginny blew a piece of hair out of her face as Pansy flopped into the room, looking feverish and dishevelled. "Look what the cat dragged out of bed," Draco commented. "Someone drank too much last night," he smirked, sitting down with a pile of eggs and pancakes.

"Oh, god!" Ginny and Pansy both disappeared under the coffee table, which immediately emanated several interesting and not at all appetizing sounds. Blaise turned an interesting green colour and picked his feet up off the ground, settling them into his chair and rocking back slowly.

Draco stuck his head under the table, and instantly re-emerged, cheeks bulging and eyes watering. "Right. First order of business; you can clean up under the table." Blaise covered his eyes with one hand and stuck his wand under the table, muttering a cleaning spell. "Good. Now I'm going to get Pansy a hangover potion," which he did, and proceeded to cart the newly-unconscious Pansy back to bed, where he forged a sick note and sent it with her owl. Returning to the kitchen, he found Blaise had pulled Ginny into his lap and conjured a bucket, into which she was throwing up again.

When Draco entered, Blaise looked up, and the expression on his face was one Draco had never expected to see. "Right," he said, clearing his throat at the next lull in Ginny's vomiting, "next stop, St. Mungo's."


	6. You're What? We're What?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Whew. This one's a doozie. I don't care how I spell doozie, it's still bleeped-up. So...here's chapter six, it's long, it's gruelling, it's going to make you want to jump out the nearest window. For those of you on first floors, I'm terribly sorry, please send your hospital bills to the american government and try getting some money from them. Right, so the other hospital visit you've all been waiting for...

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine unless it is, you know what isn't, because it's good and belongs to J.K.Rowling.

* * *

**Mistakes Made**

**Chapter Six: You're _What?_ We're _What?_ The Twins Did _What?_

* * *

**

"No."

The bespectacled St. Mungo's healer who brought to mind a mummified McGonagall-Flitwick lovechild glanced up from her chart, blinking owlishly at Ginny through her glasses. "No?" she queried, rummaging through her pockets for a handkerchief.

"No," Draco reinforced with a tight smile, leaning over Ginny's shoulder.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," the old bat murmured, blowing her nose noisily, ", but 'no' is not a viable answer at the moment. You _are_ pregnant."

Ginny shook her head again, her hair brushing over the sleeves of her hospital gown. "No. You _don't_ understand. It's just impossible," she protested, trying to slide off the examining table. The woman somehow managed to stop her. How she accomplished it was beyond Draco; Ginny could have squashed her with her spatula in seconds. That woman had a way with kitchen utensils that was downright scary.

"Now, miss, you need to sit down," the Triassic Period relic crooned. "Pregnancy is a great responsibility and we can't have you hurting yourself now, can we? Not when you're living for two, now." It was rather a good thing the old crone had pushed Ginny back on the table, because the girl's knees buckled and her shoulders slumped and she got that look on her face that Draco knew so well by now. That 'look out I'm going to blow chunks' look.

As if this body language coupled with Ginny's protests weren't warning enough, the old cow finally noticed Draco, whose jaw had unhinged and dropped into the hospital room's tile floor some time back when she'd come back with the tests she'd run on Ginny.

"Oh," dinosaur-woman said slowly, blinking. "I take it this _wasn't_ a planned pregnancy?" she asked in a disapproving tone. Ginny resisted throwing herself off the table. "Lady, this wasn't even a planned one-night-stand," Ginny growled, "I can't be pregnant!"

"Dear, you are. Aren't you happy?"

Ginny's hand was inching for the rectal thermometer, murder in her eyes. Draco felt this was a good time to intercede. "Er, we used a Contraception Charm," he broke in. Ginny's eye twitched as she straightened up, pointing excitedly at Draco. "Ooh, yes, listen to Greasy Git Man over there; we used a Contraception Charm, so…it just…I can't be pregnant, so there…just…write it down on your little chart thing and I can go home."

The woman adjusted her glasses, looking a good deal nervous. "I'm sorry dear, but you are very much pregnant. The spell I cast does not lie."

"Neither do Contraception Charms, and they say that I can't be pregnant," Ginny glowered violently. Wonderless Woman was at a loss. "I don't know what to say. But you are pregnant. If you want to change that, you need to decide now."

Draco watched the woman slip cruelly through the door, leaving him alone with Ginny and the rectal thermometer. Sneaky little shrew. Draco had to restrain himself from throwing something large and heavy at her. Like Ginny.

"Well?"

Ginny glanced up, toying with the band around her wrist. "Well, what?" she asked. Draco swallowed nervously, eyeing the rectal thermometer. "Are you going to keep it?" he whispered, letting his eyes flicker to her stomach. To think…there was a little Malfoy alien growing in there…the thought frightened him more than he or his nearly wetted underpants would like to admit.

Ginny's head shot up and she glared at him for a full minute, in which Draco thought he was going to die no less than fourteen times, before she dropped her gaze with a sigh. "Yes, you idiot," she said, staring off in the distance, cradling her stomach. "Of course I'm going to keep it."

………………………………………………………………..

Pansy stumbled from her room hours after…well…actually, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been conscious. In that case there was only one thing to do. "Blaaaaaiiiiiise," she whined, falling onto the couch in a pitiful pose sure to elicit sympathy from the most cruel-hearted. Unfortunately, Blaise had already been sitting there.

"Pansy, I didn't think I'd ever have to say this again, considering that one terrifying episode on Christmas Eve in our seventh year, but will you please get your bum off me?"

Pansy rolled rather pathetically about two inches to the left. "Blaise," she called again, wrapping her arms around his waist, "will you make me a ham sandwich?" she pouted, nuzzling her nose in his stomach.

Blaise was unappreciative of being used as a human tissue. "Only this once, and only because you're sick and you're getting your nasty, filthy bogies all over me," he warned, getting up. Pansy smiled and hugged the pillow he'd been sitting on. "Lovely," she called. "Ooh, and can you put some brie on it?"

"Yes," Blaise yelled from the kitchen.

"And onion?"

Pause. "I suppose."

"Thanks."

Pansy thought for a moment.

"And honey?"

Blaise's head popped around the corner. "Honey?" he asked. Pansy nodded. "And if we have any, some lox?" Blaise was beginning to look sick now, so it was probably a good thing that two loud pops announced Draco and Ginny's return.

Blaise rounded the corner completely. "So, how'd it go?" he asked curiously. Pansy wasn't as curious, owing to the fact that she was a snore away from being comatose. Ginny opened her mouth resolutely, to explain that there was currently a future apocalypse-in-a-diaper incubating in her stomach in a highly disgusting and squelchy Malfoy manner, but nothing came out. Her lip quivered and she closed her mouth, afraid that if words didn't come out, something else would, and considering she'd emptied her stomach at least seven times, the next thing to go would be internal organs and she probably needed those. Blaise and Pansy were still waiting expectantly, so Draco decided to be benevolent for once and give her a little help.

"We just got back from the hospital. Ginny's fine. We're going to get married."

Ginny sighed in relief. "Yes, we're…._what_?" She exclaimed, turning to Draco questioningly. Blaise and Pansy were gaping like mutant goldfish, or in Pansy's case, a nearly comatose mutant goldfish, which is quite a sight indeed. Draco turned to Ginny. "Well, it's the only thing, isn't it? You're pregnant-" Blaise blinked, "you're pregnant?" "-and you can't have a baby on your own. Besides," Draco paused, suddenly looking hesitant "wait, it is mine, isn't it?"

Ginny glared. "Of course it's yours, who do you think I am…Pansy?"

"Easy," Pansy warned.

"So it is mine?"

"Is Snape a slimy greasebat? Yes, it's yours," Ginny's exasperation seeped through her voice. "Oh," Draco coughed nervously. "Right."

Silence.

Blaise blinked. "You're pregnant?"

………………………………………………………………………

"So," Blaise asked, some hours later, "the big question is…who's going to tell the Weasleys?"

Draco would have answered, but there seemed to be a Firewhiskey bottle down his throat. At this point, he probably needed it there, so he sacrificed his oxygen intake for the sake of getting hammered to the point of severe amnesia.

"I take it you're going to let her tell them the happy news?" Blaise prodded. Draco growled, Firewhiskey dribbling down his chin. "Good idea," Blaise nodded "they wouldn't hurt a pregnant woman."

Draco made some interesting gargling noises that Blaise took to mean 'yes, Blaise, brilliant idea, please keep talking, I'm so glad you've taken an interest in how my life is like a good friend, will you go check on dinner?'

"I'll go check on dinner, then, shall I?" Blaise said randomly, standing and making his way to the kitchen. Draco eyed him warily, finally removing the bottle. "Did Weasley actually ever say whether or not she'd marry me?" he slurred. Blaise glanced out of the kitchen. "I can't remember what she said; I was too busy trying to dodge the frying pan."

"So that could be construed as a 'no, I won't marry you, Malfoy', right?" Draco asked hopefully. Blaise scoffed in the kitchen. "Malfoy, you got the poor girl pregnant. You've either got to marry her or kill her and make it look like an accident, and _you,_" he began, as Draco had started to contemplate option number two, "will _not_ kill your fiancé, right?"

"Well, why can't she just have the damn thing and live here? I could help, she wouldn't have to deal with being called Mrs. Malfoy, which is just wrong, _and_ I won't have her brothers trying to cut my you-know-whos off," Draco reasoned. "Draco, you know the wizarding world still doesn't approve of unwed mothers. I mean, as much as it would make for a hilarious Wizarding Wireless program, I don't think you should let her tough it out on her own. Think of the copyright mess and all the press shite she'd have to deal with. Hell, I'd-" Blaise broke off uneasily, and silence resounded through the rooms. Draco was about to ask what Blaise was going to say, but he found himself unconscious.

………………………………………………………………………….

"So, you did say yes, didn't you?"

Ginny glanced up from experimentally and systematically prodding her stomach with the tip of her wand. "Er, I believe my exact words were 'back off ferret-man, I have a frying pan'," she said. Pansy winced. "Not good," she sighed. "Catchy, but not good."

"Well, I don't want to marry the cheeky sod, now, do I?" Ginny objected, raising herself up on her elbows. Pansy smirked. "No, I can understand that. But…well, you're keeping the baby, aren't you?" At the Medusian death glare Ginny was firing at her, Pansy continued hastily. "Right, of course you are. Well, you remember the girl that graduated a year ahead of us at Hogwarts? The one who had her baby a few months later? Do you remember the scandal? Not to mention you're the scintillating ex of the Boy-Who-Sells-Newspapers. If Rita Skeeter found out, she'd tear you down and then you'd have to have her killed. I mean, not that it wouldn't make for a really good autobiography- 'How My Baby Changed the World and Murdered Rita Skeeter Too'-because it probably would, but think of all the corporate mess and copyright issues you'd have to deal with. Not to mention book tours. You don't want to follow in the footsteps of Lockheart, do you?"

Ginny frowned. "Not to put a damper on things, but unfortunately, what I want doesn't really matter right now. I made a rather awful mistake, and now I've got to do what I have to. I'm going to have to marry Draco Malfoy. I don't _want_ to. But I will," she poked her stomach with a glare that said 'this is all your fault'.

Pansy nodded, a frown stealing between her lips. "Anyway, how did you get pregnant?" she asked curiously. Ginny smiled quirkily. "Well you see, when a man and a woman get very, very randy…" "Come off it, Gin. Really, how on earth did you manage to get pregnant?" Ginny turned her head to the side, absentmindedly running a hand over her navel. "You know, I'm not entirely sure. Draco swore he used his Contraception Charm, and I do believe him, because he was rather upset that he'd used it on 'a dirt-poor filthy Weasel with a fat arse'. Not only that, but I think I used mine as well, so there _should_ have been twice the reassurance, and yet still I'm up the duff." She shook her head.

Pansy wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little. "I've got a bad feeling about this," she whispered. "You're pregnant. This doesn't bode well for the good of mankind." Ginny nodded. "I know. But Contraception Charms _have_ to work. There's no faulty product, there's no problems, they must work. There is no other option. But…" she trailed off, her face frozen. A slow look of horror crossed her face. "Oh, _no_," she breathed, sitting up suddenly.

"What?" Pansy asked. Ginny clutched her stomach, terror streaking her features. "What? Is it the baby?" Pansy asked in concern. Ginny shook her head. "No, it's worse," she whispered. Pansy jumped as the red-head slammed her fist on the wall.

"I'M GOING TO KILL THEM!"

In the kitchen, Blaise broke his toe on the dish of meticulously-prepared lasagne he dropped on it, and in the living room, a tipsy Draco broke his nose on his kneecap falling off the sofa, both under the impression that their lives were going to end in a few short moments.

Fortunately for them, Ginny wasn't out for _their_ blood. This same fact was, however, most unfortunate for two of her dim-witted brothers with near-illegible handwriting.

………………………………………………………………………..

"Oh, George, go answer the door, will you?"

George Weasley shook a fist at his brother as he complied. Sure, the doorbell had been ringing steadily for the past five minutes, but it was probably just a body pressed up against it like it had been that time he'd caught Ron and Hermione snogging in the hallway.

George stuck his head out the door, eyes shut. "If you're doing anything involving the exchange of bodily fluids, please decease. Unless you're two women. Then wait for me to get my brother."

Something barrelled into him, knocking him on his arse. "Oh, Gin, it's you. Do come in," he said, standing and closing the door. He turned around to find that it was, indeed, his little sister, and she did, indeed, look like she was going to kill him. Good, everything was normal, then.

Ginny was glaring daggers at him, but had traded in her ragged breathing for a calm mask that would have put Snape to shame. "Hello, George, how are you?" she asked coolly. George nodded. "Brilliant. Sales are up. Business is good, and my sex life is-"

"Actually, I don't give a tingle about your life, sex or otherwise. What I'm interested in is those Contraception Charms you got for me."

George grinned. "Yeah. How'd you like those? Still can't believe my little sister's shagging blokes," he nodded his head, still grinning stupidly as he and Fred were liable to do. Ginny frowned.

"Yes, well, unfortunately your little sister's not going to be shagging blokes for a very long time, now. Well, to be more precise, I _can_ shag blokes, but only up to the third trimester."

George froze mid-grin. "Trimester?" he asked, as though she'd spoken some horribly taboo and completely unspeakable word of doom, which, considering he was male, she might just have.

"Trimester," Ginny repeated. "Apparently, gitwit, I'm pregnant."

George proceeded to babble incoherently for a while. "But-but-but…the Charms!" he exclaimed. "I used them." "So you can't be pregnant!" Ginny nodded grimly. "I know. But I am," she growled menacingly. "You have some explaining to do."


End file.
